innes
Club Cricketer
- Joined
- Sep 23, 2007
- Online Cricket Games Owned
2008; 24th May
The plane was swaying, fighting this tropical storm that halted the player's journey into South Africa. Anxiety ran through every single player on that plane, anxiety that made their hands shake, anxiety that made their blood rush so fast that their body itself was like one whole heart.
The journey did not reflect what I saw; darkness. Closing my eyes, thinking of my wife and family, probably now eating their homegrown coconuts back in the carribean... My kids slurping that last bit of juice from the fury fruit... picking up a bat and ball, running to the beach, wanting to reach the top level of cricket- something their father had never managed to do.
I awoke with a shock. The plane had stopped on the ground. I peered out the window of the aircraft and I read:
Johannesburg International
We had made it. The West Indian boys, the captain, and myself; the coach. We were ready.
I rubbed my eyes, gradually got out of my chair and walked out into the airport.
Leading from the front, I stopped, turned and spoke to my players, my team, my army.
They were all stood there,
Chanderpaul, the man who kept me going, my captain
Gayle, a superstar, my superstar
Sarwan, looking calm in his bandana, ready for anything
Hinds, inexperienced, looking pale and fatigued
Ganga, perhaps one of the weaker players, but who many liked
Smith, nodding his head in confidence
Powell, looking on with a smirk, a smirk letting everyone know he is there
Samuels, looking even more cool than Sarwan, the ice-man
Morton, my protection
Ramdin, my little keeps
Bravo, just my hero
The other Smith, giving me a slight wink
Collymore, my experience, someone I can rely on
Bradshaw, another one of my pace attack
Edwards, my rapid paceman
Banks, young gun whos chance it is to shine
Mohammed, My spinning master
and Lara, the star who came out of retirement for this one last series.
'Do your families proud, do your country proud, and do me proud, for the South Africans believe you are going to get walked over, but thats not gonna happen if you stand up to them. Give it your all. Get as much sleep as possible now' Peering at my watch, I saw it was 2.36 am.
'I will wake you all up tomorrow at 7am, we will get our coach down to Johannesburg stadium, warm up, and show those Africans what we've got.'
My troops nodded in aproval, picked up their bags and went, preparing for the battle that lay ahead.
I layed in bed that night with my notebook out, deciding my first 11.
It was decided, the 11 scribbled in my notebook.
1) Gayle
2) Ganga
3) Lara
4) Chanderpaul (C)
5) Sarwan
6) Bravo
7) Morton
8) Ramdin
9) Edwards
10) Collymore
11) Mohammed
I licked my lips, shut my book, and drifted off to sleep.
The plane was swaying, fighting this tropical storm that halted the player's journey into South Africa. Anxiety ran through every single player on that plane, anxiety that made their hands shake, anxiety that made their blood rush so fast that their body itself was like one whole heart.
The journey did not reflect what I saw; darkness. Closing my eyes, thinking of my wife and family, probably now eating their homegrown coconuts back in the carribean... My kids slurping that last bit of juice from the fury fruit... picking up a bat and ball, running to the beach, wanting to reach the top level of cricket- something their father had never managed to do.
I awoke with a shock. The plane had stopped on the ground. I peered out the window of the aircraft and I read:
Johannesburg International
We had made it. The West Indian boys, the captain, and myself; the coach. We were ready.
I rubbed my eyes, gradually got out of my chair and walked out into the airport.
Leading from the front, I stopped, turned and spoke to my players, my team, my army.
They were all stood there,
Chanderpaul, the man who kept me going, my captain
Gayle, a superstar, my superstar
Sarwan, looking calm in his bandana, ready for anything
Hinds, inexperienced, looking pale and fatigued
Ganga, perhaps one of the weaker players, but who many liked
Smith, nodding his head in confidence
Powell, looking on with a smirk, a smirk letting everyone know he is there
Samuels, looking even more cool than Sarwan, the ice-man
Morton, my protection
Ramdin, my little keeps
Bravo, just my hero
The other Smith, giving me a slight wink
Collymore, my experience, someone I can rely on
Bradshaw, another one of my pace attack
Edwards, my rapid paceman
Banks, young gun whos chance it is to shine
Mohammed, My spinning master
and Lara, the star who came out of retirement for this one last series.
'Do your families proud, do your country proud, and do me proud, for the South Africans believe you are going to get walked over, but thats not gonna happen if you stand up to them. Give it your all. Get as much sleep as possible now' Peering at my watch, I saw it was 2.36 am.
'I will wake you all up tomorrow at 7am, we will get our coach down to Johannesburg stadium, warm up, and show those Africans what we've got.'
My troops nodded in aproval, picked up their bags and went, preparing for the battle that lay ahead.
I layed in bed that night with my notebook out, deciding my first 11.
It was decided, the 11 scribbled in my notebook.
1) Gayle
2) Ganga
3) Lara
4) Chanderpaul (C)
5) Sarwan
6) Bravo
7) Morton
8) Ramdin
9) Edwards
10) Collymore
11) Mohammed
I licked my lips, shut my book, and drifted off to sleep.